The Palisade
by The Aura Whisperer
Summary: "Sir, we've got a problem. Code Seven-Seventy."
1. Genesis

_"The first woe is past; two other woes are yet to come."_

* * *

"Red, wake up! Come on! Wake up!" the blonde hair female called out. He shifted the covers and groaned. His wife, who was two years younger than him, eyed the man before her in excitement. Red smiled.

"_Yeaaaahhh_?"

"Don't give me that teasing tone! You know what day it is!"

He did.

Yesterday, his betrothed Yellow and he, made their vows down by the little church at the corner of Pallet Town. It was a private ceremony. Friends and family of both the bride and groom gathered around and sat in the fold-up chairs outside the temple. He had previously made it clear to his lover that he only wanted people he knew or were around Pallet, or anybody she happened to know. She smiled at the serious face he made and lightly pecked him on the lips. "Of course."

There were about forty people; nobody unknown from the other cities or somewhere else was at the place where he grew up. The townspeople were invited to come if they wished so. Remember, they were only people Red knew or grew up with. Anyone else would surely make him paranoid, or so according to the crimson-eyed male.

Being he received the title of Champion three years ago at eighteen, he was plastered by reporters and media sources from as far as the overseas regions across the globe. High school girls, random strangers and just about anyone who wanted to meet somebody famous to fulfill their lives somehow, all swarmed to the man when he was alone in the streets, publically in view. They wanted pictures, autographs, asked if he was single by both sexes. Red was famous and it angered him. He resigned his position after about two weeks of having it and moved with Yellow back to Pallet in their newly built country house that had been under development. He was still a topic of conversation.

The man grew up in the small town of Pallet and enjoyed the nice country feeling to it. There were about seventy people living there when he was ten, and still stayed that way during the time of the wedding. Everybody knew each other well, kept their doors unlocked at night, if somebody needed something, another would assist. In those small types of communities it was common to be as one and help their fellow man. Living away from the city and supermarkets meant that no person could buy food regularly, unless they wanted to drive about fifty or sixty miles to Viridian, and in that case it was for clothes or repairs. Fuel was expensive as it was. So the citizens grew their crops, fed the animals for meat supply, and established a market dubbed simply: "The Farmers Market."

Everybody was a farmer in Pallet. It was simple obligation. Being so far away from civilization was completely obvious that _they_ were the ones to feed the mouths. Some grew certain types of plants like peppers and cucumbers, while others may have grown potatoes and corn. The market was set up years ago by the now grandmothers and grandfathers in order to successfully exchange ingredients and other foods to meet their needs. No money or currency was used. It was simple trade. There was no government, but there was a sheriff. Sheriff Mark was his name and _was_ a mighty fine fellow. Brown handlebar mustache and a beer belly from many Sunday night football games. He had made sure that everything was orderly and he was a damned humble of a service. Most of the time he'd chat with somebody in the town center, or would be eating ice cream in the sheriff's building. He was jolly in nature and had the utmost concern for his commoners. Never did he abuse his power, and it was probably good that he didn't. He was outnumbered and the people took no hesitation in keeping each other safe.

Red saw the men and women sitting in the chairs from the front of the entrance of the church, mumbling and making small talk next to each other across the aisles. A middle-age man who was balding gave a warm laugh and slapped his left knee from a joke. It was a cloudy day that shined a vague gray to the sky and the air was crisp and cool, even for a near summer day on June 9th. He smirked and straightened his blue tie. "Time to meet the folks."

He stepped outside the two huge doors that creaked and paced casually down the altar that was set up for the ceremony. The people turned around and gave their _Heys!_ and wave of hands; Red heartily returned. He was then approached by his best friend from his childhood and adolescence, Green. Green wore a black suit and white collared button-up underneath, much similar to most of the men including Red. He had those jade eyes and that same messy auburn hair. His tie just so happened to be blue, also, and was one of the groomsman.

"Hey, hey, hey, nice to hear," he smiled and put his arms around Red's shoulders and patted. Red patted back. "Thanks, dude, it means a lot you came. Heard'ja make yourself all the way from that damn lab in Fuchsia," he nudged and returned his hands to his pants pockets. Green rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, you haven't changed. So what you been up to?"

"Aw, you know. Just doin business work for Silph and time with the girlfriend."

The two chatted on various subjects for minutes and minutes. Red gave an occasional hello to somebody he hadn't been acquainted to yet and continued back to his friend. It was a pretty normal day, despite there being a wedding. Just nice, friendly people talking about their lives and a few pidgeys flying and chirping around the woods of the church. The pastor was discussing with Yellow's uncle, Wilton, about wanting to get into hunting season so he could have some nice peppered stantler jerky to snack on. But _it was_ odd, and Red noticed how everything was at its serenity. There wasn't any gossip or debating about politics or some other pointless subject. No children whining, nobody arguing. It was almost perfect, or maybe it had been?

Red was not the smartest man on the planet, but when something felt out of place he knew it. He _felt _it. Somewhere in the vast lands of all terrains and landscapes, there was something else going on. There were those old superstitious sayings everybody would say, like "don't spill the salt, it's bad luck," but this was not superstition. He examined around the altar and the environment; a cold chill went down his spine. The place _was_ perfect.

"Red, honey, is everything okay?" His mother stood beside him and gently grasped his right arm which was pocketed. She was forty-six and wore a beautiful white dress and a lovely white-upturned hat. Her long, black hair was tied from the back into a big bun and out of her face. He let out a small grunt in astonishment and turned to her. Pika and Yellow's Chuchu were below near her feet. She smiled. "_Myyy_ boy, oh I'm so proud of you. I remember when you were playing outside with Pika and Green. You guys were so adorable and young. How time flies," his mother calmly said. Green coyly blushed and Red did the same. "Pika, pika!" the mice cheered in unison. "Yeah, mom, I _knoooow_." He was still her little boy and it seemed he _still_ acted like it. "Come now, you two, it's about to start."

They took their places and waited for the bride to come out. Yellow got a little frightened in one of the dressing rooms and took a while for her to muster her courage, but she overcame it. She wanted to marry the man she loved. That man she met in the vast Viridian Forest with the sexy raven-hair and glossy maroon eyes, with a hint of naïvity. That man that smelled so good and gave her solace whenever he hugged her; her breasts pressing against his chest. _That _man who wiped away those tears. Red; she loved him.

The wedding went as . . . normal. Yellow slowly walked out of the church in the most beautiful wedding dress ever seen by the eyes of the audience. Red watched in awe and couldn't take his eyes off of her. It was a nice snow-white color ball gown, and she held a bouquet of roses. Yellow was blushing from how exciting it was: the marital music playing, the vows, the . . . _kiss. _They were now married. After the reception, nearly everyone went their ways and Green pulled Red back for a small discussion before his own departure. He explained that he was going back to Fuchsia to perform more scientific studies, but only for a couple of more months. When he was done, he wanted just him and Red to have some "bro time," as they used to call it back then. Red chuckled and strongly agreed. It had been so long since they actually did anything together. And so went Green.

But Red and Yellow bid farewell to the rest of the people who were idling and talking, then went home. There, they made very, passionate love on the king-size bed of their room. The sounds of moaning and screams shook the house's walls and Red was _so_ glad that the Pikachu were not present. Even Red, being somewhat of a rash fool, was still good in bed. However it occurred to him earlier when he got inside the house that his mother probably intended to take in the Pokémon, and knew that they needed to be alone that night. She was smart; she was once a wife to an enchanting husband, until he passed. He wasn't that much of a fool after all.

They both finished, breathless and tired, and fell asleep with in each other's arms. To be young and in love . . .

* * *

He kissed her on the lips. "I know, babe. Let's get cleaned up first."


	2. The Patriarchs

Two boys from Sinnoh walked through the forest near their little, small town of Twinleaf. They were both in high school at grade ten and fifteen years of age. Together, they grew up next to each other's houses and were the best of friends. Today for them was a sunny one. It was fairly warm, but cool at the same time. Big puffs of clouds trailed along the blue canvas of the sky with a flock of occasional starlys that nested above the trees.

Dia, one of the boys, remembers how he met his friend, Pearl, as they went down a little dirt trail. Pearl was fiddling with a stick outside his house in the December snow and drawing into the white dust; they were both five. Dia approached him, curious of what he might be doing and was well bored. His mother often would let him play outside in any weather and encouraged the boy to talk to almost anyone, since he was playing alone most of the time. Much like the town of Pallet over the waters, it was relatively sparse in population but not too far from the Sinnoh capital of Jubilife. It was probably about twenty-five or thirty miles from Twinleaf. There was another town not too far away to exchange trade and work together as a community. That town was Sandgem and its population was almost the same. Regardless, nobody would ever think about kidnapping and get away with it. Folks round dose parts didn't take et too light-lee.

The snow crunched under the boy's blue boots and the blonde looked up. _Another pushover? _he thought. He had been through a rough week of kindergarten from a bully by the name of Norman Canter. He was a big-tummy kind of boy and had myriads of freckles that sat underneath his skin. "_Your momma goin to buy ya another lunchbox, blondie?"_ the ruthless villain intimidated. Norman had previously stolen the cartridge from Pearl's "pouch-pocket," as the teachers called them for the students' storage in the homeroom, and devoured the contents of it. The box was later thrown into the cafeteria garbage bin and was never seen again. Pearl was oh so afraid to say anything and the mocking scared the living hell out of him. "_I'll get your bones and eat em up if you tell! Eat em up!" _And so, he obeyed, telling his mother some crazy story about how it got lost, and gave his lunch to the asshole every day in return that the new box wouldn't be harshly discarded. After all, surely after complying with terror's orders would seize the madness, but it was only the beginning of the end. Dia was the one who would give safety and solace from the bully. Together as two, they were unstoppable with the power of friendship, and this scared Norman. Nevermore did the bully do anything and knew better not to. He knew Pearl could blackmail for the things he did, but fortunately for him, he was shy yet forgiving, and forgot the whole ordeal.

"So, watcha doin?" he asked in his high-pitched voice, examining the creation he made. Pearl returned to the art and shrugged. "Just drawing," Dia sniffed and thought of something to say. He was coy with words. But the lines in the snow made him realize something familiar. _Hot_dog! "I-is that a wiener?" the blue-eyed boy hesitantly questioned. Pearl glanced back at him in a slight, shy and confused face and further examined the details. He lightly sighed. "No, it's my daddy. It kind of looks like one, though," he replied sheepishly. "Oh," He shuffled the ground.

"Wanna come over to my house?"

"Sure."

Dia's mother saw the boys enter the through the oak door in front and was ultimately satisfied. She quickly tapped over in her high heels and squealed. "Aww, honey! You made a friend!" Pearl smiled bashfully and waved his right mitten as her. "Hi, ma'am," "Well, you boys make yourself lively! I'll get some hot cocoa for both of you!" She then scurried off into the kitchen next to the front door and began a humming melody. "Yer mom's cool," Pearl flatly stated while taking off his scarf and jacket. His friend grinned.

"Yeah, I know," "Wanna go upstairs to my room and watch Ghostbusters?"

"Sure."

They went up the white-carpeted stairs and into the room. It was a pretty normal room: bed, dresser, closet–the works. It also smelled like peppermint. Pearl sat down in front of the twin bed with the maple frame and crossed his legs, waiting for whatever may happen next. He hadn't really ever talked to anybody but his own mom in his life at that time, and would always find something to do by himself, much like the stick and the drawing. Dia pulled out a VHS case with the logo of the Ghostbusters from a toy box and popped the tape inside the VCR. The two had one hell of a good time, with many cheery laughs and action-packed busting of cytoplasm. Dia would pretend to be one of the Ghostbusters and try to bust Pearl, who would be the slimer. Dia's mother overheard the two playing outside the bedroom door and beamed. It was the beginning of a great friendship that bonded to last. Let that No . . . Nor . . . what was his name again?

He giggled to himself while holding his arms behind his back. "What is it this time?" Pearl began with a laugh. "Remember that penis drawing you made when we were kids, dude?" he turned to him while walking side-by-side. He focused his eyebrows and tried to. It had been so long that he barely recalled anything, even five years ago. They say that it's the others that never forget what you did at an early age, and Pearl knew this quite well with his buddy. Dia kept records of everything in that brain of his. Some were absolutely pointless, where others happened to get them out of trouble. Then it occurred to him. He smiled.

"Ha, yeah, that was pretty funny," They continued to walk. "Damn, do you know how long ago that was?" he asked his best friend. "'Bout when we met, right?" Pearl quickly peered up from the ground and frowned slyly; Dia caught on. "What's the matter?" A stick crunched underneath Pearl's sneaker and echoed through the woods. He had been acting very reserved and quieter than the usual Pearl that Dia grew up with. The usual guy who told very strange analogies, or predicted that a certain type of trend would either increase or decrease in popularity. He was a guy with theories and proposals, and was very passionate about it. Have a question about the social studies? Ask Pearl, hell he knows. What is the sociology behind a society in democracy compared to communism? Pearl would tell you and would even nudge in his own opinion of the two. How were the Nazis so powerful before Stalingrad? He'd sigh and joke: "_The Illuminati, man."_

You could say he was an interesting fellow who, if acquainted, could be one of the most fun people to engage intelligent conversation in. Just when he was with Dia they would be a bunch of fools and their masculinity would flow to make them do activities many would consider a nuisance. But they had fun for being the little trolls they were and giggled together when they were safe from some elaborate plan they already schemed. However he sure was quiet that day they met, but why? He never talked about it to nobody, not even his own mother. It seemed whenever they created their companionship, the introverted personality vanished. It was now back.

Pearl stopped, sat on a log along the trail and sighed. Dia sat down with him, concerned. "I miss my father, Diamond," He stared back at the trail and was given an arm around the shoulder. "I miss mine, too," He paused and Pearl bobbed up. "I try ta, you know, not talk about and . . ." Dia mumbled off. They talked about the subject for a few minutes until both couldn't find any more words to say. They had evidence of small glints of tears after the talk. Both of their fathers had passed away before they could effectively remember anything as children. It was so oddly coincidental that the fathers' death happened on the same date, but in different areas. And it was _so_ coincidental that the deaths were exceedingly graphic and unbearable for loved ones to hear. Much like when you'd read in one of those horror novels.

Dia's father, Andy Hartman, was driving his way to work through the country roads and talking on his cell phone. The man was apt for just about anything in making five-hundred thousand in thirty minutes. He was a man of tactics and strategy in the business world. But in his unawareness, he shifted eyes back onto the road from looking at a smudge on his pants and met a huge, pregnant miltank. The black Audi he was in collided and tumbled in a violent roll that caused pieces of the frame to fly off and pierce anything in its aim. It was stopped when the engine of the vehicle directly hit a telephone pole and exploded the whole thing. The miltank lay on the road with its entrails and gallons of blood sprayed all over the place. A fetus sat beside the mother's decapitated head. The locals by a nearby small town claimed the scene as: "It was like the Distortion World rained down from the sky."

Colin Atkins, or Pearl's father, recently was enlisted as a lieutenant for the Sinnoh Navy. Mostly year-round he flowed along the coasts of the country and the small islands around it with his ship in terms of national protection. Political conflict had arisen over a three month crisis of discovered spies from Kanto that landed in Sunyshore, and in this case, Atkins often found himself in international waters between the two states. One day during this situation, it was cloudy and very windy. The waves crashed fiercely against the hull of the SRS Gateway destroyer and caused many of the seamen and sailors to lose their footing with the floor. They hurried themselves inside the inner decks, but _one _did not make it. Atkins had fell off into the water and struggled to stay afloat. He couldn't swim, ironically enough, and pleaded with flailing arms for assistance. A gam of sharpedos then surrounded the man and made him scream even more in fear than what was already playing forth. The remaining fellow men threw down a buoyant net to catch him but the sharks had already begun feasting on the flesh of Atkins. Gore and meat from his body floated and entered through the mouths of the hungry Pokémon. He gave blood-gurgling screeches in pain from the horrible and sufferable nightmare that was reality. Without hesitation, the men opened fire on the sharks with the .50 caliber machine guns and killed most of them, with a couple swimming away. But it turned out they shot the commander, too. It was all recorded on video from one seaman and ended with the remaining body descending into the depths of the ocean, where Atkins lay for eternity.

Pearl stood up and stretched. His red digital watch on his left arm read: 5:34, Jun 09, 97. "Thanks, dude. This has relieved _so_ much from my mind. But I believe we should get going, ya know? It's gettin kinda late," The other boy sprung up and almost lost his balance; Pearl laughed. "Yeah, I guess yer right with your big words. But we haven't eaten yet!" "Whoa, whoa, what do you mean? I just said, 'believed'." Dia gave a comical puff. "Blah, whatever, big guy. C'mon." His stomach gave a barely audible rumble.

"Sure."

* * *

They trailed on back to their neighborhood, making jokes and talking about the girls from school whom they had crushes on. "Yeah, I really like her purse on that one." "Shut up, Dia. That's not even—" But he burst out anyway. A couple of pachirisu jumped between the branches along their way, snickering with their calls and eating acorns. "Aww, man, I'm really going to starve ta death out here." Pearl sighed and lightly patted his friends shoulder. "We're almost there. You'll last."

Upon unfamiliarity with the certain way the trees curved, they soon realized that they took the wrong way out of the woods. Pearl purposely fell on his knees to the ground and grunted in annoyance. "Don't worry, man. Torterra knows the way out! I think." Pearl gave a stern, bewildered stare. "You think? Ya _think_, Dia?! I sure hope so!" Dia returned an awkward grin. "Well, yeah! Um, here," He threw out the grass type and it examined its surroundings, sniffing repetitively. "Tru! Find us out of—Hey! What are ya doin?!" The Pokémon slowly continued to sniff and followed out its source carefully. Dia gave a perplexed face to his friend and he shrugged back. "-sigh- Guess we better follow it, eh?" Pearl sounded, defeated.

About a minute later, they came across an empty cul-de-sac, with trees that surrounded it. The sun's light barely shined through the branches, and it was unusually cooler than the other parts of the woods they had remembered. At the far end of the entrance, Torterra finally found what it was looking for: a fungus. It was a dark onyx color, with thick, brown particles that lay on the base and sides of it. Dead mosquitoes rested near the bottom of the thick stem it portrayed from the ground. Pearl held his chin and examined it. "A mushroom, hmm, wonder what's so great about it, huh?" The black hair counterpart asked and expected an educated answer. "I don't know. We better not mess with it, though." "Dude, it's a stupid mushroom!" He kicked it and scattered the particles all over his lower right pant leg. The fungus now bent halfway from them. "Whatever, we need to go. This place gives me the creeps." The two turned around and began to find their way out again. Torterra followed them after getting a quick bite of the strange growth.

* * *

Torterra had ventured their way out to the edge of the woods an hour after the encounter with the fungus. Pearl smiled when he saw his log cabin house in front of the sun that was now lowering into twilight. Dia returned his Pokémon and sprinted to his own that was not too visibly far from Pearl's on the horizon. "Hey, I'll see ya tomorrow at school! Mom's prolly got supper done!" his voice echoed. ". . . Sure." With that, Pearl lowered his head and ambled toward his own residence. He had many thoughts running throughout his conscious despite the conversation that spawned earlier.

He entered through the front door with his mother watching a rerun of Saturday Night Live on the television. The smell of tomato sauce lingered the room. "Well, la-dee-_freakin'_-da!" a man yelled through the screen. Pearl chuckled and took off his shoes. "Hey, baby! How was your walk?" the blonde woman asked her son. "Aw, you know? Just what we usually do: being stupid." He approached the back of the couch from where she lay and grasped it. "You two are so funny. I made spaghetti but you probably already knew that, didn't you, Mister Smarty?" she teased and he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, mom. Thanks."

After casually eating at the kitchen table, he went upstairs and relaxed on his queen-sized bed. He read a few pages from a book titled _Meteorology and Effects, _while mostly just looking at the cool pictures of tornadoes and different clouds. He was an avid reader of books and had a great interest in many subjects. Adventure and fantasy were his favorites for novels, but he also liked to read some scientific and informational genres, too. There were history books on the origins of Sinnoh, some economic ones, biology, and the biggest one happened to be _The Prodigy, _a religious message about Mew.

But moments later from his fascination, he laid his head on the pillow and sleep found him nearly. He had dreams about his father from the various pictures he had seen over the years from photo albums.

* * *

Meanwhile the following day, Red and Yellow ate at a prestigious restaurant called, "Ambrant's" in Viridian City. They then went to a Cabela's Outfitters store.


	3. Love is Suicide

The homeless nineteen-year-old slowly paced down a sidewalk in Goldenrod City. It was a cold, chilly morning for June 10 and sleeping in an alley had only been as miserable as it had in the previous winter because of it. He had become homeless once he completed high school nearly a year ago, and was not accepted into any colleges because of his snobby behavior towards the educational executives. But the local economy was in good shape, and the small businesses were thriving. You could say it was a good time for the people of Johto: no war, Team Rocket disbanded, people had something on the side of their earnings. If everything was good for _every_body, then why was the young man not getting on some action? Simple. He just didn't want to. He didn't have a fucking care in the world, and the world didn't fucking give a care about him.

He took out a cigarette from inside his jacket pocket and lit the end with a match from his little book. The toxic vapors entered his lungs and he exhaled; he never felt something so satisfying than that one good, first puff on a deathstick. The man gave a lopsided, unhinged grin and rubbed his five o' clock shadow, when had it gone so wrong for him and his father? It was the reason why he was in this position. But he remembered something years ago at age fifteen.

"_I FUCKING HATE YOU! YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A LIAR AND FAILURE!" _he screamed at his father._ "GO AHEAD! YOU'VE ALREADY SHOWN ME ENOUGH!" _The man who had attempted to sneak out in the middle of the night was wearing a big overcoat with a boiler hat. He was carrying out his last suitcase to go into hiding. He eyed his son with resentment and a nasty frown on his face_. _

"_You don't understand, and you never will, you little shit. You never will know what it's like to be a criminal or an adult for that matter. You're the failure for your ignorance, and I stand to correct you before—" _

"_JUST GET OUT! I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING SEE YOU AGAIN!"_

The boy had no mother growing up and would be without a father at that moment. The truth sunk in and ate the last bit of any contentment he harbored. He ran off crying to his room and the man in the big coat was never heard from anybody again. The man didn't feel any remorse for his only child. _He_ simply knew that he was the one that truly failed— failed to set an example for his son—and deep down was not worthy to be a figure with his whole character now tainted with a "WANTED" notice from the authorities. Had that not have happened, perhaps the cigarette-smoking guy would be in a dorm room, laughing with some friends and eating pizza. But it didn't; in reality, _they_ were both failures.

The thoughts of those horrid memories made him grunt and cough in his fist from the uneasiness. He wasn't feeling sorry for him ruining his life, hell no, but he could just wish that they could still be close as they had been before that dilemma, maybe not personally, but he actually had a bed to sleep in, and dinner was served every night. Now those were some good thoughts to warm that cold steel heart. A nice, warm red sweater to wear by the Christmas tree by the windows that broadcast the mountains in the background, some hot chocolate in a mug with marshmallows to dip in, a late-autumn afternoon to make it all complete. Yeah, those were _good_ times.

He crossed the empty street, being it was six in the morning, and continued his path to nowhere. The deathstick's ashes fell beside his pant leg, unnoticed, and the rest drifted with the small breeze that was blowing. The faint fog was eerie and made a distant red-colored stop light look like a monster's glowing eye in the unknown. He shivered a little from having those stories told to him when he was younger about that one urban legend creature with the red eyes that hid in the closets and ate children in the darkness of their rooms. It was that myth that made him stay up every night when he was six, watching his own closet in the moonlight, hoping that it doesn't creak open and a deep voice in the darkness that says: "Hey . . . hey. I'm going to gobble you up! Then I'm going to eat your daddy!" Ha, he still was a child—just a child that needed to be rocked and calmed from his troubles.

Now he was moving south towards a chain of furniture stores with the intentional window shopper's lure of "_DISCOUNT!_" and other displays. Oh, how much he would love to sleep on a bed. Oh, that comfy one with the big blue pillow at the end of the frame. Those white velvet sheets to slip under and drift into a restoring sleep. Oh, how it was so far from his reach and teased him. He tried his best to ignore those beautiful belongings most had and were grateful for and was doing poorly, until something else caught his attention—color televisions.

He stopped and examined in awe at a stack of six box-set TVs, playing the same program. His gloved hands pressed against the window and his breath followed. Two small speakers above the kiosk of the display relayed the sound to the outside. They were playing a commercial of a product that removed stains from clothing, and a man shouted with enthusiasm from how much he liked it or supposedly did. The smoker briefly frowned from how he wished he could purchase something for his necessities or enjoyment right then, rather than having to dig through the waste of thrown away food from restaurants just to get by another day. But he remembered: he didn't care. He was probably more worthless than any other contribution to society and didn't deserve it. To himself, he probably believed that fighting against "the system" would still preserve his pride, and not having to reach out for help would prove his might as an individual. He didn't need help—he was himself—and that was good enough for him.

The man began to move along, but a familiar face made him turn back to the TVs. "_WHVE 21 NEWS—YOUR RELIABLE SOURCE FOR YOUR ESSENTIAL DAY_," it shown in an introduction and a young woman in her early twenties appeared behind the operations table. The woman had long, elegant brown hair that hung all around her head. She had a blue blazer on and a determined smile. The man laid his hands back on the glass and gasped. It was _her_. "Blue Stevens – News Anchor", the description tag at the bottom of the screen titled. "Hello and good morning to all you people out there!" she cheerfully announced. "If you haven't already noticed . . ."

He clenched his teeth and tightened his palms. _So, it's the sellout, huh? _he grudgingly thought to himself. Miss Stevens had been an old childhood friend of his growing up, almost perhaps as close as a sister, but more than just that. They were both kidnapped at an early age and made as hypnotic slaves under a mysterious person named simply: "The Masked Man." Once they escaped, they still kept in contact and worked together as cohorts for their own interests. Playtime wasn't usually their cup of tea, but rather in terms of business—if you will—business in achieving their personal goals, too. However business didn't keep emotions apart. The then male teenager had begun to develop romantic feelings for Blue and she was well aware.

Once she figured out that she had an admirer, she took advantage of it, being the cunning and deceptive girl she was. It was too obvious. He would call her more often when at home and ask how her day was or if she needed anything. At first she began to question his motifs. Him? You mean that guy who's quiet and to himself? The guy who is private and has a secret ego? Why does he care if he wants to know . . . oh. Yes, and _oh_ how wickedly she coursed throughout her conscience. Bad or good that made her feel _good, _she wanted to find out.

One day when asked if she wanted to take a walk with him, she accepted and made haste with both her body and mind. _New shoes? A gold ring? Those Gameboys those kids play? _Goodness, she needed to slow down. They were only starting out . . . or going to.

The walk was not as envisioned for the ambitious, young man or the pretty, lass. It was taciturn and was ultimately awkward. Blue still didn't know how to start her strategy in this little shitty game she was about to play and the counterpart certainly didn't know how to get it out. It was his _strategy_ to get this girl out there and talk more than just business. It seemed that this was more like the Cold War than a game of love, except no one got threatened by radiation.

"_Blue," _he broke the silence. They both stopped on the grassy trail and she turned to him and awaited his announcement. She was purposely trying to appear as lovely and charming any schoolboy could fantasize about. How pathetic. "_I love you." _In her success, the future of many gifts and riches flashed through her mind. She could have all these things she wanted because of him and his wealthy father. No more having to wait until her birthday or some other occasion for those wants. But at the brink of decision, it turned out her conscience made out that _good. _He was her friend, and that's all she wanted it to be as. And she knew that friends don't cheat each other out of money.

So she politely denied his proposal, leaving the man in tears that soaked his pillows at night. He had built his life around her. From when they were slaves, to cohorts, to friends, and it was as if a landslide came down and buried his existence like a piece of garbage. He truly was trash; he grimaced at that term. Trash. Hell, he was trash, and he ate from it. Pure trashy garbage. What was he thinking? Who'd want to date him?

After the very strange position they were put in because of that situation, they began to drift apart from conversation. She would even ignore the man when he would give a friend hello in public, leaving him melancholy. Eventually she moved places and was never heard from again. It was the end, he felt it was his fault because of it. Love was the reason why it happened and he condemned it now.

A middle-aged man, who was the shop owner, came out of the front door of the furniture store the other man peered into. He groaned in disgust and approached the dazed figure. "Hey! Get outta here you filthy hobo!" He turned toward the impertinent fellow and sighed. "Okay, okay, shit, I'm going. Jeez." _Business._


	4. Flollo

"Partly cloudy skies, yep, Tom. Uh, also, there will be no school for Sandgem and Twinleaf students! Unfortunately, there is something going around. Not many know what it is, but keep those hands washed!"

Pearl sat at the kitchen table while eating his cereal. His eyes sparkled in excitement when he had heard the news over the small FM radio that rested on the table. The news station was national and broadcast all the schools' delays in the mornings, since the Sinnoh region isn't that large. His chatot, Chatler, flocked its wings along and flew off into the living room. The boy sprung up from the chair, nearly flipping it over, and rushed into his mother's bedroom. The wooden stairs pounded against the force of his bare feet and the woman shuffled in the covers. He opened the door.

"Hey, mom, there's no school today." he said. Her blonde hair was in a mess and tangled in her face when she rolled over to see her son. She wore a red night-gown that made her absolutely beautiful. He smiled and tapped his feet on the carpet. "Oh, that's nice," she muffled in a daze. "You go on back to bed, sweetie." "I will." _Doubt it, _he thought.

He went back downstairs and picked up the home phone that was beside the big, white refrigerator. He wanted to make sure his best friend knew about the exciting news. Dia was the type who mainly ate and slept, so he'd probably still be asleep in the early mornings. One of the good things Dia bragged about was that he never gained any weight because of that high metabolism he had. It annoyed some of the school girls, but he did not care at all. He knew secretly they _must_ have envied him. Pearl had to redial a couple of times in aggravation from missing the keys and in excitement. The tone blurred through the speaker and was eventually answered on the last set of repetitive rhythms. The answer was one of strain and distress. It was Dia's mother.

"He-hello?! Who is this?!" Pearl pulled the device away from his ear and groaned. The sounds of the high-pitched woman were of vexation to his ears. "Yeah, yeah, Donna? It's me, Pearl, is something wrong?" Faint crying was then heard and a surge of fear coursed through his body. What had happened? Was it Diamond? He had never heard the woman cry in all of his years of being at their house. Ever since the first day Dia and he watched Ghostbusters. Ever since he remembered solely of her regular jolly personality. Pretty much since he knew her. It wasn't normal, and then it occurred: the broadcast. _Is Dia sick, too? _"Di-Dia! He's . . . there's something _wrong_ with him! He can't get out of bed! -sobs- . . . He doesn't feel well! Oh, Pearl, come over here, _please!_" Yes. Pearl widened his eyes and grasped the counter he was by. A mix of emotions flowed throughout his body—worry, anger, fear, even some type of remorse. It was his best friend after all. It was the person who saved him from Norman Canter's games of harassment. And now Dia was in some sort of harm. Pearl felt dizzy and shocked from this, like something disastrous happened.

The world spun around his head in an eternal darkness. It was quiet; the surroundings of the house seemed to stop in a pause and everything was gray. Nothing could be heard by him but the thoughts of what Donna had just said. Even with learning about Dia's supposed condition, he felt something, maybe telepathically. He felt something similar to a thread—a thread that connected the two boys together. But that thread loosened up, and the hairs curled from the base and weakened it. It was a departing kind of absent feeling, a type of desire that mustn't be removed. A desire that is needed in a person's life—the human sociability of someone close. Love, in a friend's way. He saw Dia and him in an array of memories. Memories of laughs, memories of spending time together, their friendship. They were all in vivid color and had a warm happiness to them. All of that was now in orbit in the darkness, and he felt it slowly drifting from his conscious of gravity. It made him depressed within and did not want to let go of those experiences. He couldn't have thought about losing them. It was _needed_. He _couldn't _think of not having Dia removed in his life. His face grew pale and his mouth gaped. It made him have an epiphany. A sudden realization: _Diamond . . . he's in trouble. _

He felt it.

He stood there, completely still, in silence and uncertainty for about ten seconds through all this until, "Pearl? Are you still there?" she questioned, obviously miserable in her voice. He regained control of his body and gasped. "Guh! Yeah! I'll be right over!"

The blonde made pace to get on a light jacket and his sneakers. It was 5:47 A.M. on June 12, and a dense fog lingered over the small town he lived in. The mornings were almost always below a comfortable room temperature, and the afternoons and evenings were scorching hot. They were irregular patterns for the townspeople, and the constant changing of the temperatures sometimes gave them a small cold or their allergies would kick in. _That's all it is, right? Just another cold going around, nothing serious, _he anxiously coursed.

There was no time to tell his mother about the situation over the phone. Donna wanted him severely, and when she was serious (which is almost never), especially about her little Dia, then it meant business. He tripped and almost fell from the pile of multiple shoes that lay by the front door. Chatot laid his feet on the edge of a bar stool that was pulled up against the kitchen island; he tilted his head from his master's hastiness. He turned around once he got everything on. "You wanna come, too?" The bird nodded.

* * *

Once arriving to his best friend's house, he didn't even care to knock. Instead, he ran up on the porch of the log cabin and landed himself on the front door like an idiot; Chatot felt confused. He recaptured his posture, heaved a sigh and entered the home; the bird waited outside. In the familiar living room with the kitchen not too far to the left of it, there was no one in sight. It was dark and no lights were on. "Hello?" he spoke uneasily. There then was a rattling of deep thumps from above the ceiling and steps down the stairs. It was Donna; he made sudden pace to her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he somewhat angrily asked. He was just worried. She clutched him and bawled into his shoulders. He returned with a slight, irritated gesture of back pats. "Just . . . just please, check on him. I'm going to start the car; he needs to go to the hospital." She released her grip and exited the house. Pearl bit his fingernails; it was worse than he imagined it to be, and he hadn't even seen him yet.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hallway to his bedroom. There was a poster of three guys and one woman standing in front of a place labeled above in neon lights: GAME ROOM/PARTY ROOM, on the door. Pearl turned the knob and felt a chill run down his spine when touching it. Slowly the wooden frame extended into the space and he only hoped for the best . . . but not as he had wanted. Dia was in a room where the faint steel color of the outside shined through his bedroom window. He laid in the bed with the covers tucked all the way to his neck; arms extended above the sheets. Dia's munchlax sat in a corner of the room, appearing surprisingly apathetic. The boy's eyes were bagged with a deep, black tint under them, and it made him look like a fucking ghoul or something. His black hair was rustled in a mess, but what made it chilling for Pearl to see was that some of the middle portions had streaks of a white hue. It wasn't that dark, passionate color that Pearl remembered. He looked old.

"Di-Di-Diamond?!" He hurried over to the bedside. Dia looked up in a passive manner, but forced a grin. "He-hey, Pearl, I'm in a mess, hehe." His body shook furiously afterwards and moaned in pain. "What happened to you?!" he cried out to his lower companion. After controlling himself, he said, "I do-don't know, man, but I'm freakin cold. My legs are so weak. I-I don't—" He coughed heavily in interruption and Pearl took hold of his forearms. "Diamond, please, did somebody do this?" He shook his head that ruffled the pillows. "Nah, I felt kind of light-headed yesterday and decided to go ta bed," Pearl glanced down.

"When?"

"About when I got home from school."

He gulped and tightened his grip unknowingly on Dia's wrists. The other boy responded in deep agony. "Oh! Sorry! Sorry!" Pearl freed his hands and Diamond tried to smile again, but it was only a little one. "It's fine, I'm pretty tough, you know that. Bu-but Pe-Pearl, I think . . . I'm dying."

His ears violently rung suddenly and now he felt morbid. The visions came back, but only for a short while. It seemed now that the thread was now becoming separated entirely, only held by a few hairs. Pearl's own legs wobbled, and he didn't want to accept that theory. He's just feeling bad, right? Give him an aspirin and he'll feel a lot better! You'll see! But somehow, deep inside, a part of him _knew_ it. The young man of logic had to. If Dia looked like a zombie, then it was probably and already too late. But he simply had to find another way. There _had_ to be. He flailed in angst.

"No . . . Diamond, don't say that . . . come on, we need to get you out of here. Your mom's—" He removed the bed sheets and attempted to pick up his counterpart, but was stopped. "Pearl, don't, I-I'm hurting all over, my bones . . . May-maybe you can get a wheel chair or something. There should be one in the basement, if it's not _too _late." Pearl lightened up until he heard that last part. He caressed Dia's hair in a motion to comfort him. "No, no! It's never too late! I'll be right back!"

He left the room running as fast as he could to the bottom of the house; Munchlax gave a sour expression to his sudden movements. As he got to the middle floor of the house, Donna was already waiting for him to come down. She appeared somber, but antsy. "It's by the water heater."

* * *

Pearl left a short message of what was happening for his mom; Chatot delivered it. The three then left for the Sandgem infirmary, where Pearl sat beside his aching friend in the back passenger seats of Donna's BMW along the way. She would understand the circumstances, being Pearl cared that much for somebody, especially Dia.

Little did Dia or Pearl or anybody for that matter knew what was going on. At his school, a junction of both Sandgem and Twinleaf students, Diamond Hartman had three classes during the day. The previous day and one before that, he participated in entirely and on attendance. Each class had twenty students in them, and he infected them all with his unknown sickness. Those students then went to their different classes that Dia wasn't in and infected them also. School attendance on June 10 was at 95%, the next day was 89%, and now on the twelfth: 77%. The infection spread to the students' Pokémon, as well.

* * *

**Hey to any fellow readers. I am writing a post-apocalyptic story here and I would like to say firstly that if you are following along, then I appreciate your interest. **

**This is completely foreign to me however, but I am asking for some sort of review. I am not a type of person who writes for fame, believe me, when you write, you do it because you're passionate about it or because you want to make something you like become real, and that's what I'm wanting to do. I want to make a story somewhat in the horror section with some death and explicit content, but involving the ****Pokémon characters. **

**So you may be wondering why I do want some sort of feedback, and in that case, I just want to have some sort or sense of direction. I want to hear your thoughts or maybe a few proposals or theories along the way. And also to help attract more people to the story to enjoy. Would you please take your precious time of maybe two minutes to input something, please? Or maybe sometime in the future? I'm not asking much, and I'm not abusing my requests. Thank you.**


	5. Rook

A man in a red suit came through a vault security door hundreds of feet below the Sinnoh Elite Four establishment in an underground base. He held various photographs and other informational papers on a clipboard regarding the incidents occurring in the Twinleaf-Sandgem area. His name was Lucian, the psychic-type trainer, and was the last of the Four in the tournament to challenge. He was twenty-nine, bachelor, resplendent, purple hair and wore glasses. He was also feebly in physical strength. Despite this poor appearance on a guy, he was the sharpest tool in the box—hence his psychic background. You could sit down in the park and play chess, and it would be over in or fewer than five turns, unless you were matched intellectually.

However, little did anyone know that all the Elite Fours controlled the governments of the world. The Kanto Elite Four controlled Kanto. The Johto Elite Four controlled Johto and so forth. And also nobody but authorized and highly informed government officials knew that the gym leaders were military commanders to serve the government if something were to come up, too.

For centuries in the Pokémon world, citizens demanded republicanism and democracy, and they rightfully earned it through the raining of some blood from tyrants. But the tree of liberty shriveled up when they were caught off guard not too long ago from political promises, and secretly, the whole world was now an oligarchy. Lucian often mentally giggled at that term: _oligarchy_. It didn't matter to him, though. He was in a high place, and the commoners were of lesser power. They were all stupid anyway, or so to him.

He just so happened to be the general of the Sinnoh army, and done his homework regularly that earned him the title. For somebody at his age to be credited with such responsibility was a mental burden for the male, and also sometimes a barrier. But he was probably the most intelligent person in the entire military, if not somebody on a committee of some sort. He knew all the good strategies and plans._ But_ what he couldn't imagine was himself going out in some desert and telling a bunch of brawn individuals to "Attack there!" and "Fire a mortar in that hole!" Lucian was a solemn man who kept his nose in the books, not wanting to get his pants dirty out on the battlefield, if not the stress of having to deal with the _pawns._

He never thought that they would take over the world and its freedom in the next six or so years or maybe even his lifetime, and that never sprung into his mind throughout his entire career in "public service." But this whole spread of this disease was revolving around his head and now it did _spring_, like a damn jack-in-the-box. It was as if he was slowly and subconsciously winding it up, anticipating the thing to come out, but not fully; as if drunken and halfway paying attention. But after a few good spins, "Hey! Nothing hap—" and then the fucking thing hitcha in the nose.

Even being the smart guy he was, the one thing he probably couldn't handle would be the stacking of such control and order of a civilization. Lucian was subject to panicking under heavy conditions. He knew that taking over the citizens in a pandemic would _not_ be easy, especially with the firearms they owned. It made him anxious with many worries—worries of ifs. _What _if_ that job is too hard for me? What_ if_ the People overrun us? What_ if_ we fail?_ They had to do it quietly, much like the predecessors did.

* * *

At the last and final door he stood and adjusted his glasses. He placed his palm on a scanner and the vault door slid sideways in two directions. He stepped in. A woman in a black blazer and long, blonde hair was sitting in a big fabric chair behind a large maple desk. She had both hands holding her chin and a definitive look on her face. Around the room was a drywall interior with many computer monitors installed on the walls. There were two potted plants in the back two corners of the room away from the door, but other than that, the room was really plain in decorative design. The door shut behind him and he felt his toes clinch together in his leather shoes.

There was a moment of silence that made Lucian grow uneasy, until, "So . . . what's the report?" He relaxed and approached the desk and sat in one of the two other chairs in front of it. He laid down the clipboard in front of her and prepared his baritone speaking voice.

". . . it's not good, Ms. President, as—"

"Cut the bullshit, Lucian. I want to know. I want to know what's going on. Tell me, what the hell should we do?"

He smiled from his little tease and continued. "Sorry . . . Cynthia, yes," He cleared his throat. "I'm . . . I, don't know where to begin. The reconnaissance we sent out yesterday investigated the area, and the disease seems to be crippling the population of the towns. They are all dying, no doubt about it. Whatever the hell happened out there, it's spreading, and we need to quarantine definitely. And what's got me afraid is that it's incoming close to the capital." Lucian grimaced then took off the stack of photos, which had no color, and spread them out. "Look at this god-awful mess. This man here, mid-sixties, some major respiratory damage as you can see; rotting, black flesh developed around the chest and neck. He didn't have a chance."

She picked up the photo Lucian was talking about and examined it. He stopped and patiently waited until she was finished. She laid it back down and went back to listening. "And here, this is what I was talking about. There are these spore colonies developing in the lungs of these people. By request, the team took samples from the corpse and brought it back to the chem lab a few blocks up; they're still looking into it. I'm just telling you information they already know little about."

"Water?"

"Please."

The woman took out a bottled water from the miniature refrigerator under the desk and gave it to him. He gave a few sips and sat the bottle in his lap. "_Ah. _But you can plainly see what's happening here, right? There are phages in the damn spores, too . . . yeah, how _in _this world did this originate? And get this, they're injecting these enzymes and alternating the DNA of these infected. That doesn't make any sense at all. The viruses _must_ think the human body is one, huge bacteria. And the toll is multiplying by the aid of such factors like coughing and phlegm."

"What does all of this mean?" she questioned, confused and a little worried. Lucian gave a light puff and lightly rested his cheek on his index finger; he thought of some simple way to explain it. She interrupted in her own theory.

"Are you saying that whatever the first person had . . . it spread to somebody else through . . . the air?" Lucian gulped and replied: "Yes, but not literally—no, I think, I don't know, but I think that's what's happening. People are coughing, and these . . . spores are scattering everywhere. The spores are flowing with the _air_."

"_Holy _shit."

"I know. That's not the end of it."

She blinked in recoil and tensed. Lucian directed her attention to another photo off to the far side. It was a picture of a bidoof with fatal wounds from gunfire. Gore leaked from its body and foam in its mouth showed.

"Look at this Pokémon, it went rabid or something. It was shot by a farmer who claimed that it was trying to actually _eat _his pet houndour. Yeah, _eat_." His breathing was more paced than usual and then realized it. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat once again. "It's not normal for a docile, little bidoof to attack a houndour and expect to win, especially. Don't say it's rabies, either, because the evidence collected—"

"Rabies."

"Shut up. The evidence collected had the same phages as from the humans, but their structure was somewhat different; possibly adaptation." He leaned back in the chair and held his hands behind his head. Cynthia sighed and stood up.

"I think I've seen enough. It's been a long day; I know it has for you. We just need to get those scientists to figure out more about what this is for now. But we should do what you've mentioned and send several squads down around the areas of those towns. You go do that . . . general."

"Ha-ha, clever. I'll be on one of the helicopters to Jubilife in the next thirty minutes or so after a phone call. Do whatever, but I'm not letting this get out of hand, whether you're the puppeteer or not."

Cynthia chuckled and brushed her hair to the side of her head. "No need to be so blunt about it, Lucian. We're still a republic, just kind of."

"Whatever, I'll see ya—"

"Lucian, come here for a minute, will you?"

The man turned around with a suspicious face. "Come on," The man sighed and dreadfully went over to the woman; he was now in conversing distance. Cynthia pulled the man by his dress shirt and passionately kissed him on the lips. She released after about a few seconds and surveyed his face. He was in a daze until he said, "Uh . . . that was lovely. Gotta go now!" he sounded real hoarse and squeaky, like a male going through puberty. Lucian then exited the room at speed and the door automatically closed behind him.

Cynthia smiled and shortly followed up the compound in another elevator. She then went to her personal bedroom and slept through the night, with _many_ thoughts on her mind.


	6. Mister Hexes

Diamond and Pearl were in the Sandgem hospital, and it was consolidated due to so many infections. Even some of the doctors were sick. Donna, Dia's mother, had left to take a walk to get things off her mind. But whether they would be off or not, reality would not let loose. Diamond was sick, horribly sick. His right leg had lost so much bone density due to the genetic code of the disease, as a result, had crumbled off like a cracker. The inside of the remaining muscles and skin were of black, rotting flesh. The doctors had to bandage it, being infected by the boy, too, in the process unknowingly. Patches of the same rot had constructed around his throat and chest. He was going to die.

Diamond lay in an angled bed with his best friend beside him in a chair. He was coughing heavily with the spore particles coming out of his lungs and coating the blankets a gold color. Pearl was shedding small tears beside him while holding his right hand. A heart monitor beeped on the other side at around fifty heartbeats per minute. Dia looked up at his face and smiled. "Pe-Pearl?" He gasped. "Yea, yes! What is it?!" Diamond had another repetition of coughs; Pearl flinched in hurt. Dia forced another smile. "Ya kno-ow, I've had a-a great life because of you," Pearl cried a little harder. "No, no, don't say that. We're going to fix you up, come on!" he pleaded and shook his shirt.

The viral phages had already defeated any opposition from Dia's immune system, and were now producing their own attack cells to combat his body. Soon, his organs would shut down and all other functions to be alive properly. His vision was blurred, and he was terribly dehydrated. He could barely see his best friend, and it was slowly getting darker. Pearl shook harder at him which brought back some light for the moment.

"_Eh_ . . . there's . . . no need for that. Pearl, you've been a brother, more than th-at. Do ya know?"

"Yes! Yes! I do know! You mean the world to me! I just . . . I can't watch you die like this!" He began sobbing into his hands loudly and his whole body trembled violently. Dia reached his right hand out to Pearl's and lightly patted. He glanced back down with his cloudy vision. "Pl-please, it'll be all right. I-I belong with Mew now, and Arceus above. It-it's part of life . . . Pearl."

_It's part of life._

He had never heard Diamond say something so educated. The life cycle: reproduction, birth, life, death, it's what it is. His rational mind wanted to accept those facts, but he simply couldn't. Diamond was a _part _of him that could not be left out of _the cycle. _He loved him dearly, from his bullied days, to their great friendship they had made at their childhoods, to adolescence, to now. If Diamond were to die, then he would feel the need to do the same.

Pearl remembered that time when the two would go swimming in the pond behind their houses. They would make bets against each other to see who could swim to the bottom and collect the most weeds before having the need for air. They got tired quickly, but it was so much fun for them.

He remembered when they ran around each other's houses making movies on the bulky camcorder his mother had, and playing the footage on the television while making teasing each other. Diamond would make silly faces whenever he was directly getting attention, and you'd hear Pearl laughing in the background. Sometimes he'd make funny jokes, too, which would cause more laughs to be heard. One video they made was about having a war with their toy soldiers from the downstairs and upstairs "countries." They'd extend their arms to represent bomber planes and drop plastic bottles for the bombs. That was _so much_ fun for them

But he remembered when they retreated from a horde of angry, obstinate starlys that they had disturbed in the woods. Dia tripped on a fallen tree branch, and Pearl went back to help him back up. They had a great trust in each other; it was inevitable to even try to physically separate them; they were honorable to the end. But by the skin of their teeth, they managed to get out of the woods and into Dia's house; a bunch of loud thumps were heard behind them when the front door shut, and they burst out laughing.

_It's part of life. _No, Diamond dying was_ all_ of life.

"Dia-Diamond? No, don't say that, please don't say that! You can't die! You can't!"

Pearl had began to become hysterical. Diamond attempted to make a lopsided grin to comfort, but another wave of coughs shattered that. Pearl cried again and buried his face and arms into the bed. The monitor was beeping slower.

"Pe-pearl," He lifted his head from the blankets and listened. "I lo—I love you, man. Pl-please, take ca-re of yourself. It's time for me to go," His sight was barely in color, it was now black.

"No! _NO_!" Pearl shouted and slapped his face multiple times in a struggle to keep his consciousness. "Goodbye, Pearl." he whispered. His head then slid over and limped on his pillows. _Beep . . . beep . . . beeeeeeeee. _Blood from Dia's mouth then poured out and spilled the covers, with the yellow particles mixed in.

"Diamond?! Diamond! Wake up! Wake up!" He rattled his friend forcefully and bawled once more simultaneously. "Diamond! Come on!" Doctors then busted down the door and approached hastily to the two.

"Get off of him, kid! He's -coughs-, he's gone!" a brawn man in a white coat shouted. Two other male doctors grabbed hold of Pearl and tried to pull him away. "No! No! He's still alive! Get away!" Pearl struggled and punched them both in their chests, with no recoil in any pain. They then gripped each arm of the teenager and forced him out of the room, while he screamed madly and flailed his legs on the way out. "_DIIIIIIIIAAAMOND!" _The last sight of his best friend was the big doctor disconnecting him from the monitor. The door shut brutally in his face.

* * *

_Pow!_ A milk jug exploded in midair.

"Wow! You _are_ a good shot!" Red then softly pressed his lips against Yellow's cheek. She blushed and put the new gun on safe then sat it down on the picnic table beside them. Red was wearing a blue flannel with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of blue jeans. Yellow was just wearing an orange R.E.M. shirt and shorts, pretty simple and casual. They had been practicing their aim behind their private home all afternoon.

The other day—after the wedding—when they drove to Viridian in Red's black 1997 GMC Sierra, they had stopped by a Cabela's Outfitters and purchased a rifle: an AR15. The rifle came with a red-dot sight, thirty-round magazines that came with it, and fired .223s. And not to mention: a lot of kick-ass firepower.

Yellow had always wanted to do something fantastic and out of reach from her female spectrum. She hated that norm where the typical girl or housewife would be in the kitchen or cleaning the house. She wanted to be a part of everything—the everything where she wasn't stuck in one routine—or an everything of unisex more specifically. She was not a tomboy, no, not a chance, she hugged up and desired her Red more than anything, but she was defiant in her own passive way. Red often found it cute, how she would stand by her circumstances with strength, the way she put her foot down to a danger. But to her husband, he saw all of it behind the mask of that friendly, jubilant look she trademarked. Thing is, she actually did, and it tickled him.

It always had. When he first asked her out about five years ago at age sixteen, they were obviously meant for each other from the start. Red often sneaked a glance up while eating with her during a journey and gazed into those deep, brown eyes she had. Her soft, pale face, with the gorgeous blonde hair that got in it which aggravated the hell out of her. That warm, loving personality. It made his heart beat furiously. And Yellow, when she found out that He went missing one time a long time ago, she was angered, but at the same time pained. It was like a toy taken away from a child; she couldn't stand it—she had to find that boy. And on that course of searching, she discovered that—yes—she knew why she wanted to so badly. She rested and thought about it for nights, and she was in love with him.

It was that determined rush of energy he always had to achieve something. He was relentless, and she adored it. She also adored his raven hair, his bizarre, crimson eyes and the way he smelled so good. His masculinity; his amiability towards others; yeah, for sure. And one day when she was fishing in the forest, Red thought he'd give it a shot and visited her. He was crazy with hormones, like any other teenage boy, and it turned out to be a happy forming of a union. Yellow was so excited to their confessions, that she jumped and squealed into his arms, and Red never felt something so satisfying in victory—a victory of love. They had a strong and stable relationship for the rest of their adolescence, and until that moment of proposal, and still.

Red carefully wrapped his arms behind her and gave a small squeeze. He rested his head on her shoulder and moaned in a gratified, husband-wife fashion (non-sexual), and it comforted her. It was that sense of protection that was ensured from his gender in nature, and in his love. She was protected by a man—her man—and that tingling need to be caressed. She laid her head against his, and it made them giggle. They stood like that, embracing each other for several minutes, until Red heard crunchy footsteps behind them. He let go of his wife and flipped around. It was Professor Oak, Green's grandfather.

"Well, how 'bout these two love-birds?" he teased and chuckled afterwards.

"Hey, professor, what brings you out here today?" Red questioned, happy to see him. Yellow gave a hello, and held Red's arm while holding a polite smile to the senior. "Well, I thought I'd stop by and tell you two about the disease going around in the Sinnoh region up north. Haven't you heard?" Red, puzzled, eyed his wife, and she returned a concerned face. "Uh . . . no, we haven't actually. What's that all about?" Oak sat down on the table and shook his head.

"Oh, god, it's awful, Red. They got the army up there with the tanks and bio-suits. Apparently it started in the two little towns my colleague Rowan lives in, uh, Twinleaf and Sandgem. He's . . . come down with it, too, and it's got me worried, about him, about just everything,"

There was a silence for a few seconds.

"They call it 'Mr. Hexes,' and the people are dying horrible deaths because of it—deaths of . . . natural dismemberment, if there is such a phrase—and these spores are developing in the lungs of anyone who is infected by the disease and choking on them. The damn thing is even affecting the Pokémon also, and . . . -sigh-, folks, it's not a pretty sight."

The lovers expressed bewildered exchanges. Yellow stepped forward away from her husband. "We can't wait here and let those people die like that, professor! Come on! We have—"

"There's no need for that Yellow, you'll be infected too if you get near somebody that has it. The best you two can do is to keep your sanitation and health. I'm not saying to isolate yourselves, but make clear of any suspicious activity. I just wanted to tell you so you can be aware, and maybe prepare for anything."

Oak tilted his head to the right and noticed the jet colored rifle that lay. He picked it up and looked down the dot sight, finger over from the trigger guard. He smiled and pointed it around the woods that surrounded their home. "Heh," he laughed. "Reminds me of the old days." Red crossed his arms and so did Yellow. "Your old days?" Oak took out the magazine and laid the gun back down. He continued to fiddle with it and went on.

"Why, yes, it was a long time ago though, I wasn't even the professor I am now. There was a war, and a lot of we young—well, not anymore—but a lot of my generation was drafted and brought into the front lines. There were protests and hippies trashing buildings and whatnot—causing a mess," he chuckled again and the lovers did the same. "But yes, I was in the three-hundred and first ground division and most of the time we just sat around guarding the bases that were set up. We'd play cards and listen to whatever was on the radio, usually The Who and Beatles at the time, and you'd see some of us digging in the forests for some of the 'good stuff' to smoke. They'd even take it home with them if given the opportunity _to _go home. _Ah_, it was so pointless, it was, but I had many good friends."

"Do you still know them?" Red asked. He shook his head. "No, no, they're long gone, unfortunately. One day we were ambushed by an enemy squad and they shot all of them down," He paused. "Blood sprayed all over my face, and I was trying to find cover while I was blinded. Till this day, I don't know how I'm alive. Only thing I remember was waking up in a bed and the nurse telling me the bad news."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, that must have been so awful." Yellow fretted and developed a frown; Red held her again. Oak smiled off into the distance and continued to reminisce. "It was, but they were the best. I do miss them. But I was sent home due to the belief the doctors would think I'd be traumatized. I wasn't, but damn, I never want to go back there again. There—the army. I've seen things, Red . . . Yellow, and I cannot un-see them."

"Listen, professor, we were about to make some supper. Do you maybe want to join us?" Red attempted to make the conversation more comfortable. Oak got up from the picnic table and stretched his back.

"I, _now_, I don't want to impose,"

"Nonsense." they both said.

"Well . . . alright. I'll help if you need any."

* * *

Red grilled steaks on the grill out back, while Yellow made salad and various vegetables to go with it. They had insisted that the professor relax and sit around until it was ready, but he had ended up baking potatoes and a pie. Yellow giggled to herself at the humorous sights of an old man moving around quickly in the kitchen and told Red about; they both joined their snickers.

After the meal, they shot off a couple of bottles and paper plates that had lain around the woods. Yellow missed a many times, so did Red, but Oak didn't miss—not one shot. The military had taught him well, and he still had it in him after all. He was preparing to leave the house by going out the front door until Red rushed up from the brown leather couch and went to him. Yellow was in the bedroom searching for a CD record to listen to.

"Hey, before ya leave, um, how do you know all this stuff?" Red was leaning his arm against the door frame with his right foot propped up. The professor stuck his head into the house and back to Red's face. "Look, I wouldn't tell Yellow, but the scientists and I are trying to figure out a cure for the disease. The government has requested that we _ensure_ a finding. Nobody but us and you know this, Red, and I trust that you won't tell anyone else. You've been a great help to me since you were a boy, and I expect you to stay that way. Can I trust you?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course! But, what's in—"

"Okay, good. Anyway, until then, you kids stay low. I don't know how bad this thing's going to get, and I certainly don't ever want to see any cases here in our peaceful community."

"Yeah, that's for sure," He viewed the floor awkwardly and pondered. "I'm really worried, professor. Are you sure there isn't anything I can do? I mean, I am your assistant, aren't I?" he said, with an intentional guilt factor to it; the elder caught on.

"Look, Red, just stay out of trouble, for your sake—for your own health. You've got a wife now, and you need to be taking care of her. Don't be afraid, everything should be getting under control in no time. And if it doesn't, then it will be a _long_ while to get here, and if it does, then it will only be a short matter of time in that period before someone has discovered a vaccine or whatever is necessary. But that's highly unlikely it'd take that many days. So please, take care for now. I need to be getting home."

"See ya."

Red closed the door and went back into their bedroom. He had completely forgotten what he was going to ask before he was interrupted. Yellow smiled at him, and was underneath the covers reading a book now. He climbed in the bed and reached an arm around her head. She snuggled closer and threw the book off the bed, then placed her head on her husband's chest.

"Red," she said.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, more than anything in the world."

She kissed him on the lips, and Red returned. But now Yellow was a little anxious, and he could feel it. He never liked it when she was in a bad mood—where she was scared about something or a little moody—he wanted to make her better. "Hey, is something bothering you?" She gave it a thought and said, "Eh, a little bit. It's . . . it's, I'm just a little frightened about what's going on. I want to help those people, but I don't want us to get hurt." Tears were starting to appear in her eyes; Red noticed. "Hey, hey, come on, it'll be all right, babe. We're going to be fine. We'll get through _anything_ together. I promise." She looked back at his face. "Do you mean it?" He smiled and gently pulled her head with his; she could smell his scent, and it smelled s_o good_. "Of course I do. C'mon, never mind all this nonsense. You want to watch a movie to get our minds off of this?" She brightened and straightened herself up. "That's sounds great!"

The rest of the night, they had watched _The Shining _on the television that was in their room. Red had gotten so into the movie that he didn't even notice that Yellow had fallen asleep against him. He grinned and leaned down to peck his wife on the forehead, before laying her over on her side of the bed. He was all of a sudden tired, so he turned off the television with the remote and left the VHS tape rolling. The last part he had seen from the movie was a lipstick doodle of the word "REⱭЯUM" on a door.


	7. Yentraccm

"Master . . . look at me . . . please," The entity refused to make notice of its apprentice, The Knight. An infectious curtain had fallen across the land of Sinnoh, and only next would more to come—another woe to come. They had been plotting their interests for centuries and waiting for that right moment. And now, Mr. Hexes had replaced the carriers of the postal service, it _was _now its own company, if not a monopoly. With everyone getting their _mail_, it would only be a matter of time before the world had fallen into its malevolent grip, and their terms of business.

"Master . . . look at me! Come on Master, now!" The dark being crooked its head to its pleader. It shined its keen teeth at the learner, and the callow servant shook. The Knight suddenly lost the thoughts from the teacher in fear, and time was wasting; Teacher was not patient. But Knight found the courage to repeat what was going to be said and made the attempt. "Master . . . i-is he great?" The dark figure now held a dubious look on its face and pondered the student's words.

_Is he great?_

The teacher gave another kooky smile. "Oh yeah," It then cackled in a sinister fashion; the echoes bounced off the walls of the woods. The Knight trembled again. "Oh yeah,"

Waves lightly melted into the sand on the distant shore in the forest. It was about twilight, and the sun was finally coming down to the border of the horizon. In the woods, Pinsir roamed the grassy floor and Heracross sucked the sap from the trees. The two, teacher and student, were in a rocky crater, and the dimming of night was approaching to engulf them.

The teacher then levitated above a small puddle in front of Student. It was now placid, and had a friendly appearance. "Yes, yes, he may just be the one." The Knight grinned in approval, blue eyes glistened from its happiness, and Knight made a motion to leave the place. Teacher then grasped The Knight's shoulder to halt its partner. "Oh, stop, stop," the student said in an exhausted daze. "You _will_ bring him to us. Do what you must, he must be getting tired, that means it's time for sleepy-bye." It giggled shortly afterwards. The student glanced up at the levitating entity and nodded.

"_Get in," . . . "their god will be dead."_


	8. Definitely Maybe

"Come on, Gold, you have to go find him; he's your best friend!"

Crys Williams, a skilled, dexterous Pokémon catcher and colleague of her friend, sat beside him on a bench at the Goldenrod Magnet Train station in the Johto region. The two had known each other over the course of their adolescence, recognized by many for their pestering friend-friend relationship, and now were both nineteen years of age, instituted at the University of Goldenrod college campus. It was June 15, Sunday, and two days after the death of Dia, and almost a week after Red and Yellow's marriage.

They had decided to take the day off after their finals—which in time would complete their first year—to relax and catch up on any talk they had not managed to achieve from their exhaustion of tight schedules. Damn professors didn't give anybody _any_ slack up in that place. But it was a nice day, sunny, not a nimbus cloud in sight besides the few pretty white ones that scanned across the blue sky. It made Gold's mood and high spirits brighten. Because of this, it activated that cheery and content personality that shined on everyone; he loved the sun; he felt a connection with his body and it.

Gold Chamberlin was a selfless, generous and a hearty young man eager with ambitions. He always carried a smile on his face and asked how everybody was doing all the time: how they were feeling, if they had any problems—the charismatic type of guy. He knew he was charismatic, no doubt, everybody liked Gold, not just for his personality, and he _knew_ that as well. But he kept his urge to brag inside to cheer to himself whenever he got home in a little giggle and purposely dance silly on the carpet in his room. He also knew that he was pretty goofy and quirky when doing this, and in general, definitely. That little cheering would make him a little happy. But home was something for the boy he didn't really have an admiration for.

Since he was fifteen he had a long battle of depression to still the day at the train station. Nobody knew about it, not even his close friend Crys, and who the hell would? He hid his emotions behind that smile of his. From what the psychologists teach us about "the happy," they might sometimes be the ones who are actually . . . sad. They are the sad folks that don't want anybody else to experience their pain, so they will do whatever to present themselves in a jubilant aura that would cast positivism among the crowd, and Gold fell into this category. But why was he like this?

Nearly four years ago on a cold evening before Christmas Eve of ninety-three, it started when a best friend of his—his _true_ best friend he swore was—had "fell" himself. His name was Silver, Silver Agani, who had known Gold synonymously at the dawn of their Pokémon adventures at age eleven. Their start was a little rough being that the two had different personalities: a snobby introvert and an outgoing rash (what could go wrong?). But in time through the experiences of learning their faults and skills, they had developed a respectful relationship. Eventually after becoming comfortable with each other—or at least for Silver—they would often go to see new movies, eat together at some restaurant, every now and then a stealthy carrying of some liquor from a guy Silver knew in his father's business by the name of Jakob. But most of all they were being a pair of good friends, spending nearly every day of their lives with each other.

However on that late night, Silver caught his father sneaking out of the house to abandon the teen for good and go into hiding because of criminal charges. He was flabbergasted at first; he loved his father so much and was proud of his successes (who he wasn't really informed about them anyway), and for him to leave forever without a say completely and emotionally destroyed him at that very moment. They had a fight by instinct, of course, Silver was a raging streak inside, and it ended off with the boy locking himself in his room. He fell asleep after crying from the betrayal for around God knows how long, and then woke up at three in the afternoon with nobody in the house. It was sadly a house filled with a pale tasting apathetic flavor for Christmas to be around the corner the following day. So _sad_ to be . . . his birthday also.

After the incident, for whom he did not tell, his behavior began to change to one of spite and maliciousness. He started to distance his self from Gold and would savor any time to be alone and contemplate his feelings. Gold was confused by this and tried his best to get something out of him, but was always met with a "leave me alone" or even in some cases a "get the fuck away from me." Over time with Silver being an asshole hermit in his abandoned father's house, he became a lonely piece of shit that nobody cared about anymore, and it crushed Gold's heart.

At school many asked the black-haired Gold about where his counterpart was, causing him to have a surge of embarrassment and fear flow in his chest. He awkwardly forced a smile and said he honestly didn't know, often ending with the questioner shrugging the reply and going their way. When Gold would arrive at home, he checked to see if his mother was occupied with something and made way to his room if so. There he would take off his pants, climb in the bed, underneath the covers, and stare at the ceiling with the hurt flowing instantly to him, like it was hiding or being contained from a storage device, and then pouring richly over him. He would cry silently with his face buried, the tears steaming his pale cheeks and onto the soft pillows at the end of the firm bed. Sometimes he'd be at it for almost hours, even surprised that Mom didn't check on him. Sometimes he'd listen to "Wonderwall" over and over again on his CD player to add to the pain, like any other love-sick and or emotional teenager, and he hated it and loved it at the same time oddly.

High School ended a year ago for Gold and Silver. No more friends or anybody else but Crys to talk to, which made even more morose. He was thankful to have her, yes, but he couldn't stand being alone and lonely, also with the limitations of human interaction. You know? We all say that we're all going to be friends after school's over and live our lives together, maybe drink some beers and have barbecues on Saturday nights? Show off our children and how much they're growing up? No, this didn't apply to him, nobody was ever heard from or at least from Gold's standpoint. He hadn't heard any word from his "old buddies" or any phone calls—nothing. Reality stung.

He cried nightly once it was all over, more than he ever did in his life. It was so strange to the boy. He grew up living a happy life with a good mom, good friends, a good education, and overall was good! He was a good boy! He never thought that once in his life that he'd be in combat against the negative powers and forces. But he did, and it kind of intrigued him to explore what else would happen. _What else might happen? _he thought. _How will I feel in another ten years?_

Silver had not been heard of since the graduation ceremony. Word came out around New Bark, his hometown, that the house that was rumored for him to be living in was destroyed by the county government, for it did not have a license to stand on that property and had no construction records. The government was ultimately astonished how it was built without any dates or papers showing the history of it. They soon labeled it as "The Most Mysterious Occurrence in a Small Town" in the local newspaper.

"_Pfft, _what good is he anyway? He's no _good_ to us, Crys, and you _know_ that. He's a dick and I hope he rots wherever he is." Gold bitterly said and grimaced.

"Gold!" Crys lightly pushed him to the other side of the bench. He groaned and crossed his arms then looked the other way from her.

"This is _not_ like you! Gold, what about your friendship? What about all the things you guys have done together? You two were a great pair! And look, you're—" Gold abruptly stood up and threw down his arms.

"Look! Look! _Look!" _he angrily mocked. "I don't fucking care about that asshole! _Look_ here! If that motherfucker thinks he can go off for some _goddamn_ reason and not say goodbye his 'best friend'," he curled his index and middle fingers, "then he's got another _fucking _thing coming, Crys! That piece of shit has caused so much trouble and . . _. and! _He's done so much damage! He's a fucking loser, Crys! A _fucking _loser! I-I never want to see him again! He-he can go to hell for all I care!"

Crys eyed him, very concerned and disturbed by his outburst. There were a few people around the train station looking at the two with confused, contempt stares. Gold glanced down from his rage of all directions and noticed the face she carried. He ignored her and sat back down with his fists curled to his chin, his head leaning over. Tears began to develop in his eyes.

"Go-Gold? Are you okay?" She extended her head out to look at him, and this made him turn his head opposite to hers.

"Ye-yeah, I'm fine," He sniffed and rubbed his wet eye sockets with his red hoodie sleeve. "Yeah, I'm good." He sighed and raised his head. "Crys . . . I'm sorry," Gold straightened his posture, but then leaned back afterwards. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's just . . . I know, I know this isn't like me. I . . . I just don't like to talk about him, that's all." He turned back to her and smiled. His eyes were reddened, and she grew uneasy. She hesitated to ask, but the words came out compulsively.

"Gold, do you want to talk about it? You can tell me anything, I won't tell anyone." She laid her hand on his bicep and barely made a smile. Gold relaxed his forced grinning and slyly made a frown; Crys saw it.

"Well, I—"

"Goldenrod to Saffron! Goldenrod to Saffron! All aboard the train!" an old man with a white handlebar mustache called out to the crowd of idlers. The train that the two had been waiting for finally arrived to the station and was ready to depart. The people got up from their benches and started to walk toward the hull of the train.

"_Ha_, would you look at that? There's your train, Crys." He pointed at it and grinned at her. She gave a puff and sprung up. She was disappointed that she did not have any time left to discuss anything else, especially the comforting of her friend. She cursed herself.

"Oh, Gold, I'm so sorry. Look, just give me a call or something later, okay? You know my grandma's number, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah! You better get going! I'll see ya in the next week. Go on! Have fun!" he cheered and flapped his wrist. She knew he was hiding s_omething_, but there was no time to get it out of him, or at least at that point. She huffed and rolled her eyes and gave her goodbyes. Gold saw her get on the train to the city of Saffron from the neighboring nation of Kanto, and sighed once it was out of sight.

He began to walk back to his dorm room from the station and had a many thoughts of what to do about his former mate. He had a lot of different feelings that flowed: sadness, regret, hate, anger, remorse; he was so unsure about his life and, of course, about Silver. He cried some and disguised it by looking down while he was walking. Nobody took notice of his melancholy, and he was so glad. _Should I talk to him? Should I find him? Should I do nothing? _

After the day at the train station, he would never see Crys again in his life.

* * *

Green Oak was at a pay phone on the corner of Tutt Street in Fuchsia. It was raining heavily and to add to it: a cold, chilling breeze swept down from the dark and cloudy night periodically. The man analyzed his surroundings for a brief moment before stepping into the booth. He felt uneasy. Not as if it was a bad place to be, but simply, he was always uneasy. He felt nearly half the time as if there were a disturbance at every given moment, or even someone watching him. He was a very intelligent young man and even skillful in some personal defenses, but there is almost a weak spot in everything. And that weak spot was paranoia.

He officially had a house much like Red and Yellow's and in Pallet, but in a more desolate location out in the woods northeast of the town. It was actually not that far away for Red's if one were to take a short walk, but the trails are what took the most time to come across, being that there were sticks and branches everywhere. He kept the black curtains in front of the windows at all times and had a security system installed the previous summer. To add to that, he kept a Benelli pump-action shotgun propped up beside his bed. _Just in case! Just in case!_ He kept it there for when an intruder actually did manage to get through the system, and if all means by chance, it would be hardly, but just in case.

He wasn't that much of a conspiracy theorist or conscious of Big Brother out to get him, but he was just a tiny bit overprotective of himself. The only good thing out of this, he supposed, was that he was the only one that knew about his perseverance at home. People would more than likely call him a weirdo if they found out, or so he believed, and he didn't want anybody to judge him. However if somebody he knew was coming to visit, then he'd make the place not so conservative.

On the other hand, his personal life besides the paranoia was reserved. He would read books in the living room (and this would be the only time, when alone, to open the curtains to add to the view) and sometimes have a glass of red wine with it also. Sports weren't of his best interest, but historical documentaries, anything to do with science, Seinfeld and reruns of Tom and Jerry were among his favorite things to watch on the television. He did not enjoy parties or meeting a lot of people he didn't know, like the others in their twenties around Pallet and the other small communities. Instead, if he ever had the urge to make some contact, he'd just go see Red. Red was the only one around that place that understood his personality and was overall a nice guy to hang out and talk to; really easy person to spark conversation and was never boring. Hell, he grew up with him like a brother, so it kind of made sense to him. And Yellow was so sweet to be around. He admired her for her gentle spirit and selflessness. It even caused him to absorb some of that liveliness to be a little outgoing sometimes, and this greatly surprised Red. Green sometimes thought if he had a thing for her in his mid-teens, but he normally ignored this. He didn't want to betray Red, especially since he was the only male around that took into account of being a peer he knew well. Overtime though, he forgot about the whole thing and focused on his own life.

Green inserted a quarter-dollar in the slot of the machine and dialed his grandfather's office number. The phone's receiver hummed several times, causing him to give an impatient sigh and tapping of his right foot. It was then answered and satisfaction followed him.

"Hello? This is Professor Oak speaking. Who may this be?" The old man sounded occupied with something.

"Hey, it's me." Green said.

"Wh-who is this now?" He rolled his eyes.

"It's me, Gramps! How ya doin?!" he teased. A giggling smirk arose on his face.

"Oh! I didn't recognize you. You've grown up quite a bit with your voice changing and all."

"Yeah, that was like, what, seven years ago?"

The old man smiled on the other side and fiddled with a pencil at his work desk. A picture frame with a photo of Red and Green were in it. They were both on a pebble beach by a riverside and the sky had a gray tint to it over the lush green pine trees in the background. Green was wearing a brown jacket and holding up a discarded omanyte shell while slightly grinning for the camera, while Red had a black jacket and wrapped an arm around his waist with a big smile, bright white teeth showing. "Mar 15, '90" it read at the bottom right corner in white marker ink.

Samuel, Professor Oak, reminisced the photo at the date it was taken and slumped a palm to rest his chin on the table. His grandson repeated if he was there until he practically yelled.

"Oh! Yes! Yes! I'm here!" He laughed afterwards and Green sighed. "I was just looking at this picture I took of you boys a few years back." There was a short silence that followed.

"Who?" Green asked.

"You know who. Red?"

". . . oh! Yeah." He scouted the area around the booth again and leaned back against the folding entrance door.

"So what did you need to talk to me about? What's so important?" He glanced around with his eyes awkwardly.

"Right. Listen here," He blew through the phone. "We're in shit, Green, I mean: big shit. You are informed about the 'little' incident that's been occurring in those small, remote towns in the Sinnoh region haven't you?"

Green focused his face in trying to recall. "No, I've been researching the different niches over here for a while now, and a little bit of plant dissection. I haven't heard nothing in particular, why?"

Samuel groaned through the phone that was followed by a sigh. "I'm going to need you, Green; I'm getting too old for this shit. I don't want to explain much over the phone, and I can't tell you why, but please get over here soon. Do you hear me?"

"What? Yeah, I hear you, Grandpa. Why can't you say anything right now?"

"Look, Green, I just can't. You're a smart boy, and I need your help just this once. This is very important to me—to everyone. I don't mean to scare you, but . . . please, will you help your old man?" Green firmly put his fist against the glass of the booth. He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

He sighed. "Yeah, okay, fine, I'll help you," Oak senior relaxed in relief. "I'm going to put my documents and other research papers up first, and I'll be on my way. Should take about three, four hours to get there."

"Okay, thanks. You're doing me a big favor. I'll see you soon, grandson."

"See ya." He made a motion to hang the phone up until—

"Hey! Hey! Green!" the faint voice called. He hastily put it back to his ear near the moment of disconnection.

"Yeah, what is it?"

There was another awkward pause.

"I love you, you know?"

Green slightly awed . . . then smiled. "Love you too, bye."

"Bye."

Green put up the phone and got out of the booth as quickly as he could, his claustrophobia was killing him in there. He made his way down the sidewalk, head down against the rainstorm. It bothered him strangely. He had never seen or heard his grandfather behave so seriously, yet odd, and with so little information to show why. Paranoia. _Ha, no, no, that can't be it . . . but why was he acting that? _It made him anxious, with an additional feeling of . . . somebody watching him.

Oak put his hands in his pockets and carried along the storm. The street lights barely shined on the hard concrete and blacktop road of the night, and they flickered on and off in brisk frames. _CRACK!_ the thunder and lightning crashed simultaneously. His pace increased and he soon believed he wasn't going to make it back to his truck. He could hear nothing but the violent drops of water hitting the earth. But within himself, he _did _hear something: a faint drumming sound that beat in irregular patterns. _Da-dadadada-dadada-dadadada-dada . . . da, _it made riff one after another, with that one _da_ after the long series of the others. That last one built up suspense. Wait . . . wait . . . _da._

"Bullshit." he said out loud.

That being watched feeling ever grew so much greater. His legs weakened and made his movement more difficult. He stopped suddenly and promptly turned around to see if anyone was playing a stupid game that he certainly did not like. He had the urge to yell out: _"Alright! Come out you son of a bitch!" _But nobody was on the street or the alley ways—anywhere. He noticed his breathing was at a faster tempo and it pissed him off. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and meditated shortly.

"No one here, huh?" he whispered.

Green observed the area for a few more seconds and about went back on his way, until he noticed a dark figure on the top of a street lamp across the opposite sidewalk. He focused his eyes on it and discovered it was a murkrow. _Caw!_ the creature made attention of him. He shook his head and made it back to his vehicle in one piece. He opened up the glove box and took out his M1911. A seven round magazine was inserted into the gun, then holstered around the waist of his khaki pants. Green began to drive home in the dark, eerie weather.


	9. When God Takes Things Away

A huge explosion sounded off in the middle of the night that trembled Red and Yellow's house. The waves of sound made the furniture and decorations shake violently. A frame of a painting fell from their bedroom wall at the end of the tremor. Red sprung up from his slumber.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he yelled in astonishment from the disturbance. He knocked over a half full can of Coors Light that was by the bedside table and cursed to himself. Yellow opened her eyes and frenzied to her husband in fear, wrapping her arms around his chest. Red took a quick glance over and saw the digital alarm clock that read 4:14 A.M.

"What?! What?! What is it?!" she howled, scared out of her living mind. A distant siren began to ring from outside in the distance. He straightened his posture with the bed frame and caressed her head. He could feel that she _too_ was beginning to shake.

"I-I don't know, the house just moved or somethin. It scared the hell out of me. Sorry." he explained. Yellow adjusted her height with his and sat with her knees to her chin. She gaped into his eyes and awaited any further words, but was met with none.

"Do you think we should check out what's going on?" she asked. Red now stood on the floor and inserted two fingers into the blinds of the bedside window and spread them. He peered out momentarily and returned to his wife.

"There's smoke rising in the distance—_Shit!_ I have to call Mom!" He ran out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

"Red! Wait a minute! What's going on out there?" she pleaded, still under the covers. She struggled to remove the sheets that were tangled in her legs and let out grunts of annoyance. Once released, she walked in paced steps in a large t-shirt, substituting the need for sleep pants. Red always found it arousing and for "a quick reach," he joked with her. Sometimes he meant his words when by random he'd tease her down there with his curled fingers, causing her to squeal in a mix of shock and pleasure. He'd coo seductively into her ear afterwards, and she became so turned on.

Yellow came to see a hasty Red moving about the kitchen with the wireless home phone, waiting for his mother to pick up. Yellow pulled over a chair from the kitchen table and sat, not wanting to disturb the busy male. The line was finally answered and Red halted his movement, and then rested on the island in the middle of the cooking facility.

"Mom! Mom! What's going on?!" Yellow could hear muffled noises and distorted words coming across the room from the phone. She bit her lip and silently prayed to herself. Red began to bite his fingernails which drove Yellow crazy from how gross it was and that it ruined their purpose.

"Red! Help! Help me! Oh, Lord Mew, what's going on?! Pika!" From what her son heard were the sounds of something cracking and popping in the background. His mom was coughing heavily and becoming disoriented.

"Mo-mom! I'll be right over there!" He threw down the phone carelessly and bolted out the front door of the living room.

"Red, wait for me!" she cried out and followed behind him, grabbing a pair of folded sleep pants from the living room couch.

* * *

The two got in the GMC truck as fast as they could, house shoes on and in pajamas. They had left the front door of the house wide open in complete ignorance of flowing to the little-given situation at hand. Red started the ignition and reversed it from the driveway at a high speed, then turned the vehicle a sharp 180 and drove towards the more populated area of the town. His mother's house was not that far from the main plaza and town limits, so it would be a short drive. He was breathing frantically and murmuring incoherently under his breath. Yellow caught hold of hers and noticed him.

"Goddamn piece of shit . . ." he mumbled to himself while the truck's RPMs accelerated. She glanced over at him in bewilderment and was also a bit irritated.

"Red, _what is_ going on?" she sternly questioned, becoming extremely irked with not knowing what the hell was happening. He slowly turned his head towards her, still focusing on the road, until he gave her his full attention. His face was injected with pure anxiety, and then he let it all out.

"I-I-I-don't kno-ow! Mom's in trouble! I heard her over the phone," He paused and cleared his throat. "There was a bunch of ruckus and! And! Oh, God, I'm so scared!" Red began to fidget in his seat and let out moans of worry. Yellow scowled and regretted snapping at him.

"Oh, Red, I'm sorry! I-I didn't know! Just keep your eyes on the road and we'll be there soon! I promise!" Yellow scooted closer to him and buckled herself in the middle seat of the truck. She wanted to comfort him the best she could to ensure that they would get to her place.

Never before in her life had she'd seen Red so frightened before. He was always the brave and cunning soldier that was ready to take on any challenge that stood before him. One night while they were on a date at the National Park in Johto, they had run into a thug with a switch blade on the trail they were on. They had left their Pokémon at the house and wanted a special occasion to be alone to enjoy their selves romantically. Yellow screamed.

"_Shut the hell up and just give me all of your damn mon-_EHH!" Red gripped the criminal's wrist and twisted it backwards, causing a loud scream to escape. He positioned himself in front of the mugger's chest and lifted him off the ground with his other hand gripping hard at his crotch, then threw him into the air causing him to do a couple of flips until landing hard on his back. The asshole ran off the second he managed to regain the breath that was knocked out of him. Red brushed off some dirt that got on him during the scuffle, and hurried over to Yellow who was cowering behind a tree not too far away from the fight scene. He held out his hand and she graciously accepted it, kissing him when brought to her feet. They made out under shadows of the trees from the moonlight and broke off with Red giggling. She asked what was so funny, musing to herself out loud if it was another little prank her boyfriend was going to pull on her.

"_Hey, look! I won a free knife!"_

And of course there were other instances with the scary, wild Pokémon that would jump out to attack, and Red would indefinitely capture it no matter what. Even if he had to jump in with his own and beat the shit out of it, then he'd do it. That was the thing about Red—he was relentless of any choice he made, severely indiscreet and a little cocky. Not to mention that this was a mixture for a cake of recklessness in some cases. However, this wasn't the Red Yellow knew.

They entered the town's small streets and started to maneuver around the small roundabout in the middle. People on the sidewalks were running away the opposite direction and screaming frantically. The truck's lights shined on two glass windows of a small flower shop that Red always hated and blinded him. He moved his arm to shadow his view. _Jeez! Cover those damn things up will ya?_ The smell of smoke was beginning to come through the air vents, and Yellow held her nose while grimacing. Red grunted and gripped tighter at the leather steering wheel, which made Yellow fret. She analyzed the folks outside and felt her stomach turn over. _If I feel like this, there's no telling how Red feels._

"Babe," Red mumbled. Yellow turned to him.

"Yeah?" She gently laid a hand on his right arm that was free from steering. They managed to get through the small area called a "town" and exited towards another country road.

"Is it okay to be scared for somebody like me—urm, like for a man?" She pondered his thoughts and warmly smiled.

"Yes," She kissed his cheek. "Yes, it's okay to be scared sometimes. It's only natural. And no matter how scared you are, I will always love my Red." He relaxed back into the seat from where he was nervous, literally body against the steering wheel, and nonchalantly made a comforted smile.

"Thanks."

The smoke in the sky was becoming more visible, and that comforting moment was merely forgotten.

* * *

Approaching the side road to his mother's house along a tree line, it was revealed that the house was ablaze and slumped over from the blast wave of the earlier explosion. The corn field that belonged to his mother was also on fire. Professor Oak's laboratory that was only a slight hundred yards on the other side of the field was in even a bigger burst of flames, with the building completely devastated. The town's small division of ten some firefighters were already at the both of the scenes, blasting water into the buildings with the assistance of a many blastoise and their cannons applying pressure on the fire. Multiple police cars that happened to be strolling around Pallet at the time before the fire were stationed with their blue and red strobe lights flashing.

Yellow gasped and held her hands to her mouth, while Red held a bold, determined stare. He wasn't going to have his mother burn to death in that house, that was for sure. In a way he expected this from how the phone resonated only minutes ago from his home. He had no fear now, he needed to set that aside, for Yellow. That burning passion respawned back in his heart. Setting aside all emotions, he prepared his self.

Shifting the tires onto the gravel road, he sped up the long drive at forty . . . fifty . . . sixty miles per hour.

"Red, stop! You're scaring me!"

There were close to the area of the firefighting and that was when Red applied the brakes, causing them to lean forwards and viciously halting the truck to a stop, barely feet away from the team of Pokémon. A blastoise turned around and cried in its deep voice, surprised by the sudden vehicle; the firefighters paid no attention. Yellow sighed and rested her head on the head rest in relief of not crashing. Red exited the vehicle promptly, with Yellow following behind him.

Red ran to an officer and asked if his mother was safe and from the fire.

"Who are you anyway?" an Officer Jenny yelled over the flowing water to the male.

He ignored her and pointed at the house. "She's my damn mom! Now is she safe of what?!" Yellow came up and stood by his side. She brushed her hair out of her face and stood up straight in respect to the member of law enforcement.

"Sorry, but it still seems she's trapped in what is believed to be the bedroom! A fireman entered the house with an axe, but we haven't heard from him in minutes!"

Red groaned in dissatisfaction and distress, and then ran vigilantly towards the house, shoving away Officer Jenny that tried to stop him.

"Hey, get back here! It's dangerous in there!"

"RED, DON'T!" Yellow screamed at him. She wanted to bring him back and in her safety, but this time the officer grabbed hold of the pursuer.

"Stay here! That's an order! We don't want any others and especially you getting hurt!" She stepped back from the authority figure and held her hands together sadly. Tears began to sting her eyes and she only hoped a miracle would bring her Red back in one piece.

* * *

Red touched the front door knob and hissed—it was extremely hot. He busted down the door with his right foot and entered the house. The smell of smoke was strong and it caused him to raucously have a coughing fit. He took his black t-shirt off and tied it around his mouth to act as a filter. The living room that neighbored the front door had debris of all sorts: from a smoking couch, to a fallen wooden beam that supported the ceiling. The television was charred to a crisp, and the walls were drunk in flames.

He stopped and took in the features. A memory sprung into his head.

"_Red!" _Green called to him. "_Your mom's house is so cool! She even has a record player? Aw, that is so awesome! AW! Tom Petty!" _

Red smiled hugely._ "You wanna listen to it, Green? Mom's not going to be home for a while!"_

"_Alright!" _

Green picked up the "Damn the Torpedoes" vinyl from the top of the player and swung it around to show Red with content. In the process he knocked over a medium-sized vase, making it fall onto the wooden floor, shattering into many pieces. Green gasped and began to weep over his palms. The vinyl now lay in front of his feet.

"_Oh . . . oh no! I'm going to be in so much trouble! Oh, Red, I'm so sorry!" _

He cried very loudly and dared not to move in the perpetual fear that consumed him. The fresh, warm tears streamed down his face, and his body shook. He had been a bad boy for breaking that vase—for breaking Red's mom's décor. The thoughts of being grounded and locked in his room scared the hell out of him. He was going to be punished—a spanking of a lifetime from his grandpa and Red's mom both—and would be served justice for the crime he committed. No more toys or going outside or even seeing Red, his only friend.

He continued to cry until Red placed a hand on his shoulder. Green looked up with his resplendent emerald eyes that were blood-shot in the whites in awe. Red smiled and hugged him firmly.

"_Green, it will okay. I'll tell mom I knocked it over. You didn't do anything." _the crimson-eyed boy comforted. Green inhaled sharply again and gazed into his eyes.

"_You'd-you'd do that for me, Red?" _

He grinned. _"Sure. It was only an accident, I'm sure she won't get angry." _

Green's face brightened and he embraced Red back. "_Oh! Thank you! Thank you, Red! You're the best!" _

Red stared at the boy and suddenly began to burn up from the temperature of the room. Green held a considerable odd eyebrow at him.

"_Hey, Red, what are you staring at?"_

And those words echoed through his head before the vision was burned out of his sight, like a tape projector when the film messes up. Part of the ceiling came crumbling down in front of him and generated a huge cloud of dust. Red shielded his eyes, had another repetition of coughs and went on.

From what remembering Jenny saying, he ran up the stairs that were in front of the entrance and made haste. Halfway up, his foot crushed into the wood of the stairs, as it was weak, and caused his heart to lose rhythm. He collapsed with his hands breaking his fall, and struggled to get his foot out of the hole. It wouldn't budge for a moment and this made him fearful. _Dying in my mother's house with her in it and stuck in the stairs. How cruel this world is, _he thought. But after a few wiggles it broke free and Red continued his way, thanking God, Arceus, in the result.

Sweat, and more and more of it, embodied his being for every step he took in the blazing home. On the second floor of the house, he sprinted down the right hallway to where his mother's room resided at the end. The door was once again a closed one, and Red knew this time not to repeat his earlier mistake. He kicked it down after three attempts and explored the room. The walls were on fire, much like the rest of the house, except not as badly for the one opposite of the door. A beam was crushing the fireman that attempted to rescue her.

"Pika-pi~!" a faint call cried out. It was Pika and his mate, Chuchu, Yellow's Pokémon. They were huddled in a corner with Red's unconscious mother and whimpering. _Shit! I totally forgot Mom was taking care of them over last week. Damn, I'm such a bad trainer. _Red charted over to the beam and saw the man under it.

"_Ohh! _I don't know why _you're_ here. Just leave me. I'm a goner," he muffled through his oxygen mask, coughing up blood in the process.

"No yer not! I'm going to get you out of this!" Red said and scanned the floor until he saw what he wanted. _A fireman entered the house with an axe, but we haven't heard from him in minutes! _He picked the axe up from the floor where the fireman dropped it and steadily raised it above his head. The fireman glanced up and winced in pain and anticipation. Was he going to miss? No. The axe came down and cut the large piece of wood easily in half. With the weight now divided, Red pushed off the smaller remaining piece off the man's back.

"I-I ca-ca-can't walk." he agonized.

"I know! Just hold on!"

Red went to his mother and the two Pokémon that lay huddled by her side. The mice smiled and half-heartily cheered. He noticed that his mother's eyes were closed and hurried to her.

"Mom! Mom! Wake up!" He rattled her body, panicked and in frustration. The pikachu frowned and held each other.

"Dammit!"

He opened the double-pane window of the room and looked down at the ground hesitantly. The two pikachu didn't leave the woman's side.

"HEY! BRING A DAMN TRAMPOLINE OR SOMETHIN OVER HERE, YOU GUYS!" he wailed with his head out of the house. There was no answer or response of anybody coming, and Red cursed himself once again. _Dammit! Dammit! Got to think of something! _There was no other choice, he was going to have to get them out of there his self. Slumping his head over in stress, he saw those big bushes his mom had planted by the side of the house. He illuminated.

"Hey, you guys get over here!" he directed the mice. They wobbled over on their little feet, _padda, padda, pat! _and awaited for Red's further directions.

"Okay, do you guys trust me enough to want to get out of this place?" The two nodded their heads, obeying eagerly and boldly. Red smiled.

"Good, I have no time to explain, but y'all need to get out through the window. There's a bu—" Pika objected aggressively while shielding Chuchu in front of him. The ceiling began to cave in and more and more of the insulation came down, along with some drywall and splinters of wood. Red lost it.

"There's a damn bush at the bottom! It will break your fall! Come on, yer going whether you like it or not!"

He forcefully picked up Pika. The mouse began to charge electricity and was going to give his master the shock of his life. But Red learned many different tricks growing up. As the Thundershock executed to zap the fucking life out of Red, he jumped at just the right moment and dropped the mouse, with him safely landing on the shrubs and bouncing playfully onto the ground. With Red not being in contact with something for the electricity to flow through with for that split moment, he was unharmed and he smirked because of it. He somehow predicted in the future that Pika would get back at him for doing that.

"See, Chu? He's alright!" She understood, kind of half believing but desperately wanting to get out of the nightmare. Chuchu jumped into his arms and was dropped on the substitution. The two mice then ran towards the firefighters and police.

Red swiftly turned to his mother and groaned to himself. The house quaked again with the terrible sound of steel bending. Part of the roof came down in the adjacent corner of the room.

"Shit!" He carefully picked up his mother's body, her face tangled with black hair, and hurried to the man in the middle. _How am I going to do this?! _

"It's ok-okay, pal. Just get going, save the lay-dee."

Red had gone under too much stress. He didn't know what to do, and this made him panic to levels of horror. He whimpered noisily in fear and made several sudden movements, canceling each one to create a new plan of how to execute getting out. All of a sudden, he just screamed. He screamed loud. He screamed so damn loud that it even the shirt couldn't muffle out the sound. The fireman moaned in pain and wobbled.

With his fear driving throughout his body, the adrenaline started pumping. He picked up the other person with his left arm and bolted out of the room with both of them on his shoulders. The adrenaline was providing him the extra strength needed to carry the weight of both a woman and a full grown adult male. Never did he stop, not even at the stairs. He had lost all rationality and time was running out, and that was the main factor that rung in his mind. _Time left: x amount of seconds! _like from the Bomb Squad game he played on his Intellivision when he was a kid.

The steps bent and creaked nervously and willingly to Red's expeditious stomps. He didn't think about it breaking again: all that was left was that they got out or they didn't, and didn't was _not_ an option. But they did not fall, and they were only oh so close from the front door. Instantly, another beam fell down in front of them, but that didn't stop Red. He jumped high like a damn aipom over it with all that weight on him and pushed through the door frame, barely inches away from anyone touching it. The house then fell over on its side once they were in the front yard, with only seconds to spare from their doom. They were now out of the perilous place. And Red did not stop screaming through the whole way.

* * *

Red broke down from his exhaustion in front of Yellow and Officer Jenny. The women rushed over to his aid.

"RED, YOU _FUCKING_ IDIOT!" Yellow screeched at her husband. Jenny cringed and was so, _so_ glad that she was not Red at that given time. Two firefighters scurried over and softly carried the rescued ones to fresh oxygen at the fire truck. She flipped him on his backside and tore away his filtered shirt in a raging anger. Red couldn't help but chuckle and cough uncontrollably at his wife's alien personality.

"Je -coughs- jeez, Ye-Yellow. It's not even breakfast yet and I've got this feelin I don't have the energy to work today."

She slapped him hard across the face, but grew gentle. Red still had a subtle grin.

"_Oh!_ . . . _Oh_, God! Thank God you're alright, Red!"

Yellow dug her face into his neck and wept tears of joy. And that was when he passed out.

* * *

"He'll be fine, Miss. His vitals are normal and is fully healthy. He'll need to rest for a bit, though." one of the Nurse Joys said to the young wife. A couple of medical helicopters had flown in minutes after Red had collapsed and provided care to any people or Pokémon that had been hurt. They were talking inside a very large tent that was set up, and Red was beside them in a small army green hammock bed.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she gently bellowed. "Thank you, nurse. But what about Red's mom? . . . Is she fine, too?" Joy shyly frowned and glanced down in sorrow. Yellow anticipated with vex.

"Yellow . . . I'm sorry, but she . . . she didn't hold on. She suffocated a long time before we could even get to her. _I_-_am_-_so_-_sorry." _she gloomily said, feeling extremely disappointed she wasn't able to do anything.

Yellow gasped and felt more sadness overwhelming her. Nurse Joy gave her a soft hug and released apology one after another, even though it was clear that she couldn't have saved her. Tears trailed down her cheeks again. She sniffed and wobbly shook her lip. "Oh no!" she quietly sobbed. Nurse Joy comfortably rubbed her back. "She-she's gone. Oh, lord, she's gone!"

"Honey, I know, I know, shh, shh." Joy attempted to calm her.

"Th-thanks. But, she was _such_ a nice lady." She wiped her eyes with a tissue. "She was so nice to me—so nice to everyone! I just . . . I just don't know how Red's going to handle it!" Yellow bawled into her hands, body heaving in pain, and leaned against the nurse in defeat. She caught her and nestled her close.

"Hey you there! Stop!" an outside voice cautiously yelled. Yellow raised her head from the nurse's arms and listened.

"I told you to stop!"

She gave a perplexed look at Joy with her bloodshot eyes, and she shrugged. "I'm going to see what's going on. I'll be right back." The nurse nodded and went to do some paperwork at her work desk, still feeling a little sad.

Stepping outside the tent's flap, Officer Jenny was aiming a pistol at a man in a lab coat. The man's coat at the bottom was charred to a jet black and was flaking away. Blood was all over his chest and the arms that hovered above his head. His face appeared to be slashed and badly burned also. Yellow couldn't make out the man at first, but it all came to her suddenly. The short gray hair . . . that body form . . . it was Professor Oak!

"Professor!" Yellow rushed to the old man. Jenny lowered her gun confused and crossed her arms . Oak stumbled to his knees and broke onto the ground.

"Ye-Yellow, ya-ya-you have to leave, now!" He coughed thickly with spatters of blood spraying out. Yellow recoiled back but tried her best to relax him.

"Th-the Pokémon, they're— -coughs-. The whole place's destroyed. A chain react-action! You _have_ to leave before it gets to you!"

"What are you talking about, Professor?!"

"Two-one-zero-four, Yellow! Two-one . . . zero! . . . four!" he struggled to say before his eyes fell back into his head.

* * *

**Soo . . . any thoughts? God, come on, guys.**


End file.
